


Untitled

by nathaniel_hp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-10
Updated: 2009-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathaniel_hp/pseuds/nathaniel_hp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things that Ron doesn't want Hermione to ever know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mmailliw](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mmailliw).



> Written for mmailliw at HiH Hogsmeade in October 2009.

_"Ron, what are you staring at?"_

_"Nothing," said Ron, hastily looking away from the bar._

_"I expect 'nothing''s in the back getting more Firewhiskey," said Hermione waspishly._

Ron ignored her, concentrating on his drink and hoping Hermione wouldn't pursue the topic any further. Not that he had anything to hide – well, he had. The problem was that Hermione knew things by just looking at him, and there were some things he'd rather she didn't know. Not that he could stop the memories from resurfacing now, and Ron smiled a little into his butterbeer as he thought back to a memorable Hogsmeade weekend last year.

Harry and he hadn't been on speaking terms, and he had gone to Hogsmeade on his own, knowing he'd meet Seamus and the others at the Three Broomsticks at some point along the afternoon anyway.

He sat down at the bar and ordered a butterbeer, which was warm, foamy and comforting, but it just wasn't the same when you were all on your own.

As he wistfully stared into his glass, he was startled when someone touched his hand. Soft, warm fingers, the nails painted in bright red. Ron gulped, then looked up to meet Madam Rosmerta's eyes. He stared back down at the fingers touching his hand, open-mouthed, which elicited a chuckle from the barmaid.

"You look like you could use something stronger than that. A Weasley, aren't you? The youngest boy. How old are you, dear?"

"F-fifteen, m'am," Ron stuttered. He had never talked to Madam Rosmerta, except when ordering drinks, but he had always liked looking at her, and now she was touching his hand and leaning over the counter, her boobs almost touching the glass of butterbeer, or at least they were close enough to be touched … Ron blushed and pulled back his hands, shifting on his stool and rearranging his robes.

"I – um, sorry … loo." He got up and made for the toilets, but not before he heard Madam Rosmerta whisper, "Take a detour to the storage room before you come back here, dear." Oh Gods! Ron hurried off to the loo.

Of course he hadn't made the detour; he'd hastily left via the back door and gone back to Hogwarts. The thought of what could have happened in the storage room, however, had fired his imagination on many of the nights following.

It still did, even as Hermione took up an increasingly larger part of his fantasies. Not that she was ever supposed to know of either fantasy!


End file.
